


Three is a magical number, or how Bail Organa wasn’t on Coruscant on the most important day of the Republic

by Gabriel4Sam



Category: Star Wars (Marvel Comics), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Attempted Murder, Canon Divergence - Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, Canon-Typical Violence, Chronic Illness, Except for Palpatine, F/M, Fix-It, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Recovery, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-01-29 11:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21409108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabriel4Sam/pseuds/Gabriel4Sam
Summary: It all started when someone tried to murder Obi-Wan Kenobi. An inconvenient event, but not exactly a rare one. And from there, it all snowballed until three lovers found each other and Bail Organa, who had never missed a Senate session since his election, wasn’t even on Coruscant the day the fate of the Republic was decided.
Relationships: Bail Organa/Breha Organa, Bail Organa/Breha Organa/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Bail Organa, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Breha Organa
Comments: 20
Kudos: 271
Collections: Star Wars Rare Pairs Exchange 2019





	Three is a magical number, or how Bail Organa wasn’t on Coruscant on the most important day of the Republic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EclipseMidnight (EternalEclipse)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalEclipse/gifts).

> A thousand thank you to Wrennette, who beta this fic and gave awesome advice.

All of this started without fanfare.

Well, it started with an explosion, but that was the usual. Where Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker went, and before that where Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi went, things exploded, from ships to space stations to (only once) a poor Hutt who had swallowed a grenade.

No, what needs to be remembered is that it started exactly like a lot of days started for Obi-Wan Kenobi. Someone tried to kill him. There was nothing strange about that, nothing unusual.

Someone tried to kill him and Obi-Wan didn’t even bother to act surprised. Since the first day he had stepped out of the Temple, in theory to go to the Agricorps, it had happened a lot.

So, when a warning in the Force had given him just enough time to toss the two clones with him on the shuttle into the nearest building through a window before the explosion, he hadn’t been surprised.

(On a totally unrelated note, those two clones met on this occasion the owner of the flat they had unceremoniously entered through said window and would later ran away with her to parts unknown and be very happy, but this is not their story.)

No, this story is about Obi-Wan and the insufficient time he had had to toss himself properly into safety after the clones, and about the Senator he had a meeting scheduled with that day.

A meeting Obi-Wan didn’t attend, being unconscious and in the hands of the Healers.

Bail Organa, who chaired that particular sub-committee about war refugees, was too fine a politician to let even the shadow of a moment of surprise show on his face when, only five minutes late because the Jedi were nothing but efficient, the door opened and a Jedi entered the room.

A Jedi, but not the one he was waiting for, unless Obi-Wan Kenobi had far more talent for disguise than Bail thought. As everybody took their places with the usual unnecessary level of noise, he observed the unknown Jedi from the corner of his eye. A Mirialan woman, wearing dark colours. Age had slightly hunchbacked her, she was perhaps eighty years old, probably more, but her eyes were clear, sparkling with will. Oh, what did Bail know, she could be somewhere between eighty years old and two hundred, for all he knew! Bail wasn’t very good at guessing people's ages, and Jedi were quite tricky on that matter.

He refocused on the days subject and stood up to introduce the first speaker. The Jedi Order’s envoy was only here to observe today, and the change of their representative could wait for later.

At the end of the meeting, Bail ditched another Senator trying to convince him to go to lunch, and bowed to the Jedi.

“Senator Bail Organa,” he introduced himself to the Mirialan woman, and she bowed in return.

“Your actions have made you well-known, Senator,” she said, “and House Organa’s long term friendship and help to our Order is even more known, and appreciated. I am Master Cyslin Myr.”

“It is an honor for this sub-comittee to have you attending our meetings,” Bail said, more on autopilot than anything.

“I appreciate your kindness, Senator, especially for an old Jedi you weren’t waiting for.”

“Master Myr-“

“No, no, you don’t have to be ashamed. Our Obi-Wan makes quite a sensation on the holonet, of course, and every sub-committee in need of a Jedi will imagine its importance rising if the Negotiator himself is on board, you could say. The Order understands it, of course, and we play the game, no matter how frustrating it can be, because it is the way of democracy. Nevertheless, my former Padwan told me your interest in Master Kenobi is more than professional?”

“Friendship, Master, there is a shared friendship between Master Kenobi and myself, dare I say.”

“Then, Senator, I have bad news.”

****

It was rare that people who weren’t Jedi were allowed to step into the Healing Halls. Jedi had no family outside the Order after all, a clean slate from the moment they entered the nursery. Friendship was of course permitted, but it wasn’t usually close enough for visits.

Bail Organa knew all of that and he wisely didn’t comment on the invitation Master Myr had offered, like it would jinx it and he wouldn’t be permitted to see Obi-Wan.

His friend had always had the complexion of a fair maiden in a holodrama, he was a red head after all, but he was quite ashen that day, even the lips. 

“I don’t understand,” Bail said to the Healer, a stern Twilek Jedi, after contemplating the unconscious man a few minutes, “I believed Jedi healing was almost immediate.”

“It is,” the Master said grimly. “Master Kenobi had been healed from the internal bleeding, the torn ligaments and the broken bones. Like he had been, three days ago, when he came back from a mission with damage to his neck. And two weeks before that, with a crushed leg. And the week before, directly from the field, with a shoulder wound, and-“

“I think I understand, Master Jedi, the list is unnecessary. At the Senate, we’re quite aware of the blood the Jedi spill for the war effort.”

“That’s not the impression we have,” the Healer commented, her tone harsher that Bail was used to from one of the warrior-monks.

“It will be enough, Master Che,” a voice said, and Bail turned to it and immediately bowed very low, this time more with great respect than out of habit. He had come to know Mace Windu in the Senate, and the man deserved his admiration and frankly more help than he usually received from Bail’s colleagues. Sometimes, Bail had the frustrating thought that the Jedi would have stopped the war long ago if the politicians didn’t get in their way so much.

“Walk with me,” Mace Windu said, and Bail half-turned to Obi-Wan in surprise, because the poor man was so pale, he looked like he would go into the Force if someone didn’t watch over him. And Bail had always been a bit of a mother hen with his friends.

A small smile played on the severe face of Master Windu, taking away a few years, and he added:

“I can assure you, Obi-Wan is in good hands in our Halls, and my Master will even keep him company.”

Bail hadn’t even seen the frail silhouette of Master Myr, behind the impressive shoulders of the Master of the Order. He hadn’t even known she had been Mace Windu’s master and he realized, as he saw her sitting down next to the bed, that it hadn’t been a coincidence which brought her as Obi-Wan’s replacement to the sub-committee. Mace Windu had sent her, as a way to bring Bail at Obi-Wan’s bedside in a way that seemed only a natural sequence of coincidences. He looked closer at Master Windu. He knew the keen intelligence behind those black eyes. It certainly wasn’t compassion that had made Mace Windu take the time to bring one Senator to one Jedi’s bedside. Not that he was devoid of sympathy, but he had better things to do with his time in these difficult war years.

So, Bail’s first question, once they were walking in the Room of the Thousand Fountains, was straight to the point: “What can I do for you and for the Order, Master Windu?”

Bail could have wrapped it up in other questions, or let Mace Windu arrive to the point slowly, but he was pretty sure the other man was even busier than Bail, and it would have been almost insulting to the long tradition linking the Order and the Organa family, to pretend he wouldn’t give what they wanted of him. He trusted that man enough to know Mace Windu would never ask something that wasn’t honourable.

“Obi-Wan’s mind isn’t healing the way it should,” Mace Windu said instead of the request Bail was waiting for. “It happens sometimes, when the body had been through a quick succession of grievous wounds and fast healing. He is one of our best Generals and we aren’t numerous enough anymore for the task the Republic ask of us. I grieve the fact that many of us have been returned too soon to the field, after being healed.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised, Master Windu, and everything I can do to lessen the tasks of the Order…”

“I know,” Mace Windu said, and once again, that quick half-smile, “but what I will ask you will be easier than what you imagine. I want you to take Obi-Wan to Alderaan.”

“It …yes, of course, but I must confess-“

“You were imagining yourself playing defector and spying on the Separatists?”

“Almost. And…not that we don’t have very good medicine on Alderaan, but isn’t the best care for Obi-Wan here?”

“His body is healed. He should even awaken in a few days. But his mind will need time, time he wouldn’t take here. And I have another reason to ask you, something that you’ll need to discuss with your security officer. This morning, when Obi-Wan was stable and sleeping, a droid entered the Temple through the vents. It was a vicious little thing, and it went directly to Master Kenobi. If Master Che hadn’t forgotten her set of healing crystals in his room and arrived just in time to disable the droid, he would have joined the Force.”

“Someone tried to assassinate Obi-Wan  _ in the Temple _ ?!” Bail blurted in surprise, and his chest felt tight, despite the wonderful scent of plants in the air and the singing of the fountains.

“Yes. He is a ferocious warrior, I don’t need to tell you that, as you undertook that terrible mission with him a few months ago. The perpetrator simply decided that, since Obi-Wan was vulnerable, it was the right time to finish the job. When he couldn’t defend himself. It was probably the same perpetrator who exploded the shuttle he was on, and your security officers need to be aware of the circumstances. Even if we, the Council, hope that sending Obi-Wan away from Coruscant will be enough for his - for his enemies to redirect their plotting in another direction.”

“You aren’t talking about Separatist spies on Coruscant, are you? You are talking about the Sith Lord.”

Bail could feel the Jedi tensing up, like a physical feeling; like an ancient, animal part of his brain, had suddenly registered the other man not as the pleasant being he had met dozens of time, but as a predator, ready to pounce. Mace Windu stopped walking and studied Bail’s face with an off-putting attention. Jedi sometimes had predatory gazes, not very comfortable for the one under scrutiny. In the Senate, Bail had seen grizzled politicians fold under Master Windu’s eyes like houses of cards under a strong wind.

“Obi-Wan’s lips are looser than they are supposed to be,” The Master commented finally.

“Oh, it wasn’t Obi-Wan,” Bail said, before closing his mouth so hard his teeth hurt. It was a Junior Senator’s mistake, saying that. If Master Windu didn’t like that Bail knew about the Sith, he wouldn’t appreciate that it was Padmé Amidala who had told him, and he would like to know who had told Padmé!

Bail immediately carried on:

“I will prepare for departure immediately. My junior Senator will undertake my tasks in the Senate.”

Master Windu was kind enough to go along with that obvious change of topic.

“Thank you, Senator. You accomplish a great deal in the Senate and I know it certainly isn’t easy for a man like you to leave the arena for a time.”

“May I ask, you say what ails Obi-Wan happens sometimes…. What of the others? We can certainly house other Jedi if necessary.”

Mace Windu seemed surprised. How long had it been, since someone had offered help unasked to the Jedi Order? Offered more than was asked? The Jedi were always the ones helping, such was the way of the galaxy. Who helped those who helped the galaxy?

“I insist,” Bail said and Master Windu nodded, and that small smile made an appearance again. It was oddly endearing and Bail realized that he would like to become that man’s friend, and not only his ally. Perhaps he should send an invite for the next party they would have at Alderaan’s embassy…even if forcing Master Windu to spend more time with politicians could perhaps be seen as a declaration of war, more than an offer of friendship!

Ten hours later, Bail supervised the loading of a shuttle with tinted windows of ten Jedi, eight on stretchers including Obi-Wan. He thought the only mobile Jedi who would accompany them was a Mon Calamari Jedi Healer who introduced herself as Master Eerin, but at the last minute, the door of the platform opened and Master Myr herself came to the ship, followed by Master Windu, apparently in charge of her pack. Bail politely found something else to watch when the two said their goodbyes. In these times of war, there was no certainty the two Jedi would see each other again.

And Bail’s ship left for Alderaan.

Alderaan.

No matter how many worlds Bail visited, no other planet would ever compare.

Alderaan and the beauty of its mountains, the light playing on its lakes, the sweetness of its nights, the talents of its artists.

Alderaan, and its most precious jewel, his beloved wife Breha.

She waited for them at their arrival, something that touched Bail every time. He knew how busy her schedule was.

“Rooms have been prepared for your patients in the infirmary,” the Queen said to the two bowing Jedi, “separate from the other patients, to be sure your patients won’t pick up anything in the Force.” And to be sure any potential murderers wouldn’t risk unsuspecting civilians as collateral damage, but Breha was too smart to say that outdoors, where anyone could listen.

Even on Alderaan, the war was spreading caution.

Bail could have gone back to Coruscant, of course, but the idea of leaving the palace, even with all the guards, when some murderer could come to end one of their Jedi guests, was just impossible.

He had told the most important points to Breha already over a secure line during their travel, but they came back to the subject once they had retired for the evening to their private rooms, nestled together on a couch. 

“You did well,” Breha said, as she had before.

“Even if I brought someone that users of the Dark side of the Force could follow back to our home? Did I put our people in danger?"

She stroked his thighs, a gesture of comfort.

“Probably, but how could we spend our lives blind and deaf to the suffering of the galaxy, just for the hope that it would keep our people safe? And it wouldn’t really make Alderaan a safer place. History has taught us that the darkness you ignore because it covers others, will one day turn to you. We’ll advance the date of the last session of parliament, and it will empty a good part of the palace. And to be sure nobody thinks it’s about the Jedi, we’ll put that on my health.”

He kissed her hair, sagging into the mountain of pillows on the couch. Their rooms were the only place in the entire galaxy where he could really relax. With her, that woman he adored, Bail felt like he could stop playing Viceroy Organa, stop representing Alderaan.

“You’ll like him,” Bail said, to open a less depressing conversation.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi? I hope so. With all the compliments you’ve given him, I would be quite disappointed if he revealed himself to be boring, and your fascination only came from that thing you have for redheads.”

And Bail couldn’t do anything but laugh, because if there was one thing that Obi-Wan Kenobi wasn’t, it was boring, and Breha, beloved Breha, was even worse than him about red hair. The few lovers they had shared in the years of their marriage had been humans, or near humans, with red hair; and sometimes, when it was late and they were tired, they liked to talk about the possibility of finding one they wouldn’t just have for a few days. Someone who would stay.

Three was a sacred number, on Alderaan.

**********

The first Jedi, a Bothan female with the eyes of a great Krayt dragon, woke up thirty hours after their arrival, and the second Jedi two days later. One by one, the Jedi opened their eyes, or equivalent organs, in the calm haven of the palace. 

Bail and Breha visited each and every one of them, to assure them of their welcome on Alderaan, to offer everything they could in terms of physiotherapy or simply time and a calm environment for them to finish healing. And every evening, they had Master Eerin and Master Myr dine at their table, as a way to reaffirm in the eyes of the court their support for the Jedi Order.

Breha loved to break her fast in the morning with the Jedi. Bail regularly endured, and that term wasn’t strong enough, work breakfasts with various ambassadors, politicians, and moguls of conglomerates. The medical specialists had dictated that Breha, with her failing health, shouldn’t be bothered so early in the day.

But the Jedi? There was pleasure in those simple moments with them. Alderaan had traditionally been their ally, but Breha had never really met one, and she began to appreciate them individually, as more than a great mass of beings with beige robes and strange powers whose objectives aligned with Alderaan’s.

The weeks passed slowly, and Breha emptied the palace the best she could, provoking an early recess for the parliament. The weeks passed and, last but not least, one fine morning, as the sun’s light slowly climbed over his face, Obi-Wan Kenobi woke up, a little disoriented since his last memories took place in a shuttle on fire, and he was waking up in a comfortable bed, on another planet, with the songs of the early birds in his ears. It was a real struggle to seek consciousness, like his body weighted too much, but finally, he opened his eyes, not sure if he was really awake or not.

Above his bed, a beautiful woman was leaning down. She had dark eyes and dark hair, and golden brown skin, and her smile was like the first touch of the Force.

“Welcome to Alderaan, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” she said, and Obi-Wan’s heart missed a few beats in its usual rhythm. The beautiful apparition had no time for more words, because Bant, dear Bant, rushed into the room to subject Obi-Wan to their usual dance where he affirmed that he was “quite fine” and she looked ready to burst at the gills for his bad faith and what she loved to call “gross negligence of his health.” They were old actors on a piece they had repeated so many times Obi-Wan could play his part in his sleep.

Later, when Obi-Wan was sleeping again, exhausted by the simple act of a meal, Breha lead Healer Eerin in the garden.

“Tell me about Obi-Wan Kenobi,” she said to the young Jedi.

“I don’t know what your majesty want to know. Jedi’s lives are far less interesting than holodramas would let you believe.”

“It is impolite to contradict honoured guests, so I will pretend to believe you, but let it be known that I haven’t forgotten that Master Kenobi is here because people tried to kill him. Twice.”

“To be honest, it’s a terrible habit of Obi-Wan’s that not all our brethren share. Twice is a slow week, for him.”

“You have known him a long time?”

“Since we were no more than younglings in the creche. All my life, in fact.”

The Queen let a friendly hand touch Bant’s shoulder.

“It must be difficult, to see your brothers and sisters and others, risk their lives every day in this war, Master Kenobi and all the other Generals.”

For a second, Breha could have sworn she saw unshed tears in the Mon Calamari’s bulbous eyes, but the Jedi’s control made them disappear almost immediately. Together, they watched as Master Myr led the two Jedi patients who weren’t bed-ridden anymore in a very slow series of katas. The old Mirialan woman, who walked with a cane most of the time, showed a grace Breha found ethereal.

“My brethren who left us are in the Force,” Bant said finally, “and I find comfort in that fact. And in the fact that my patients brought here by your husband will heal better than on Coruscant. And they are safe, for now.”

“For now,” Breha agreed sadly, because the Bothan Jedi was already talking of leaving to join the war effort again. Since staying upright too long was exhausting for Breha, she sat down on a stone bench in a small alcove of vegetation, Bant hovering next to her.

After a moment of silence, observing together the katas, Bant started again:

“I know you have your own team of healers, but I would be honoured to have the permission to examine you, your Majesty.”

“Those are old problems, Master Jedi, it’s far too late to do anything about it. My medics help me manage my pain levels.”

“I am sure they are excellent professionals, your Majesty. The level of dedication and professionalism I’ve seen in your people since our first day here is excellent. But Force Healing is….it is Other. I won’t lie and say I will snap my fingers and everything will suddenly be perfect. But, as a sign of our gratitude, I would like to help.”

Breha’s throat tightened. Years of chronic health problems had made her suspicious of hope. Because of that, she had given up her dear dream of a child. Because of that, she had had to put more duties than were traditionally the consort’s job on Bail’s shoulders. Because of that, her everyday life was a careful calculation, between her needs and her duties.

“Now,” Breha said. “Now, before I change my mind. Hope is quite a dangerous drug.”

Bant bowed very low and she offered her arm to the Queen to go back to the medical wing.

The next day, Obi-Wan awoke at dawn again and felt good enough for a few steps in the sun, with Bant’s arm around his waist.

“Who was she? The woman at my bedside?” he asked. Not first. Because he was a Jedi, so he asked about his Padawan. Because he believed in democracy, he asked about the latest negotiations. Because he was a General, he asked about the war.

But the first question he asked for himself was that one.

“The Queen of Alderaan, Breha Organa,” Bant answered, and Obi-Wan went pale, then red.

Since Bant knew him so well, she said nothing more. No need to trigger a furious desire to skedaddle.

At their return in the room, Bail was there.

“My friend,” Bail exclaimed, and to Obi-Wan’s surprise, Bail hugged him, more casual that the Jedi had ever seen him. Bail Organa gave excellent hugs, Obi-Wan decided, closing his eyes and indulging in a few seconds of his friend’s warmth. There was a goodness in this man that radiated in the Force and seemed to shine from him. Bail Organa was - he was safe and comforting and solid and careful with people, and Obi-Wan craved his presence, since they had become friends, in a way that sometimes made him feel quite ashamed.

“Master Myr and Master Eerin, and all the Jedi who have permission from the healers to leave their bed, are dining tonight in our wing of the palace,” Bail explained, “and I have come to invite you too, if Master Eerin give you her benevolent permission.”

“With pleasure, your Highness. I am even grateful to you. I would spend the meal worried Obi-Wan was slipping from his bed for dangerous adventures, if he wasn’t with us.”

“I am not so bad,” her old friend protested immediately.

“From what I have seen, you are,” Bail joked good-naturally, and Obi-Wan glared at him.

The Queen and her consort didn’t use the ceremonial rooms used for state dinners for the Jedi. Not that they didn’t want to honour their guests, but the few of them would have been lost in a room designed to seat easily four hundred people.

No, that night, like every other time the Jedi had shared their table, they dined in the private wing, in the room the couple used when their close family visited. As Breha looked at them, she realized it had stopped being a political statement, to have the Jedi had their table. 

It had become friendship. 

She loved discussing Mirialan literature with Master Myr. She appreciated young Master Eerin’s pragmatic attitude, and her dry humour. Even the Bothan Jedi, Master Knol Ven'nari, although frankly a little terrifying, was a fascinating being, full of anecdotes on the Outer Rim. Breha had found herself taking notes during their conversations, finding in them numerous ways to better the Republic’s relief efforts, in which Alderaan played a big part.

The efforts of Bant to help better Breha’s health weren’t exactly an impediment to liking the Jedi either. The Mon Calamari had never lied and pretended the Force could do miracles. It had been too long, since the beginning of Breha’s health problems, her body was too battle-worn, and Bant would probably be called back to Coruscant, or to the front, too soon. But in an afternoon of work, the Jedi had already helped Breha regain a part of her lost range of motion, in the neck. It was only a part of a normal range of motion, but it had felt enormous and even if the effects probably wouldn’t be permanent, Breha savoured every minor progress.

And tonight, for the first time, Obi-Wan Kenobi was at their table, too. He had the most beautiful eyes in person, Breha immediately noticed, something Bail hadn’t told her, and that the holo-images of him, everywhere in the Republic, didn’t really capture.

She placed him at the honoured place, on her right. He was…he was every bit a diplomat, well-read, charming, seductive, and not really letting anything true shine out.

“Did you like him?” Bail asked that night, as he was helping her shampoo her hair. She couldn’t raise her arms to do it herself anymore, and when he wasn’t on Alderaan, her handmaiden had to help. She preferred when it was Bail. With him, she didn’t think of every little thing her illness had taken from her. With him, it became almost a treat. He made it comforting or sensual, depending on their mood, but always, always good.

Tonight, she was definitely in a sensual mood. Bant’s healing had given her a boost of energy, and Bail’s hands in her hair were giving her ideas.

“He’s very charming,” she admitted, “but also very closed off. I don’t have the option of a dangerous life or death situation to break through his shell, like you had with him.”

“And thank the Three Goddesses for that.”

She turned to her husband, enticed him closer.

“You like him,” she singsonged.

“Alderaan and the Jedi….”

“No, my sweet, my love, you  _ like _ him…”, she put her arms around his neck and immediately his hands went to her waist and he lifted her to set her on their bed. Their height difference was so great that it hurt her neck to kiss him standing up.

Bail kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her ear.

“Fine,” he admitted. “I’m attracted to a red headed warrior monk with a death-wish. I find his mind fascinating and his rear nicely shaped.”

“What would you do?” she asked. “If he was there with us?”

“I don’t know what his opinion is on triads, my dear. He has…he has a bit of a reputation in the Senate, so I know he isn’t celibate, but…”

“You, Bail Organa, you, you listened to gossip!? Oh, you like him even more than I thought!” Breha teased, and in revenge, he described in excruciating detail what he would do and encourage if Obi-Wan was there. Bail had quite the way with words, not very surprising for a politician, and he extended this talent into the bedroom.

And when he was finished explaining, he did a demonstration.

******************

Summer was soon in full force and the small Jedi contingent on Alderaan lost two of its members, back to the front. Bant still refused the others what Obi-Wan called  _ their escape from custody _ .

Life in the hands of the Healers could be a tad boring, Obi-Wan had discovered long ago. It was for that particular reason that he spent so much time dozing off, and not, totally not, despite what Bant said, because he had an enormous sleep debt and a body working on years of abuse.

But on Alderaan, it was less boring. Every morning, since Obi-Wan was an early bird, Bail visited him before going to breakfast with various officials, and brought him interesting datapads from the palace library. The Senator always took the time to discuss what Obi-Wan thought of the ones he had already read. Bail was quite a passionate debate partner, especially since he had already read most of the contents of the library.

Every afternoon, the Queen came to the medical wing to put herself into Bant’s hands, and after, under Bant’s orders, she spent an hour in the sun in the garden, letting the Force healing’s effects settle into her body. She never slept, and she enjoyed Obi-Wan’s company in those moments. Little by little, she understood better her husband’s interest in the man. Perhaps it was also the effects on the Force healing that gave her rose tainted vision.

Once he wasn’t trying as hard to present the face of a perfect Jedi, Obi-Wan was still charming, but in an endearing way. He was passionate in his opinions, he was stubborn as the Force itself, he had a tendency to tell terrible jokes, and the worst sweet tooth Breha had ever seen. Little by little, Bant’s judicious help lessened old pains and unlocked joints, but Breha found herself more desirous of those conversations with Obi-Wan than of the sweet relief of Force Healing.

Another Jedi left them for the battlefield and when she bowed to Breha in her goodbye, the Queen felt her heart jumped in her chest. Soon, it would be Obi-Wan who would go. Every day, she knew, he had long holoconferences with his clone commander, and even longer holoconferences with his former Padawan, that didn’t seem to go very well. He felt guilty for being here, safe, with Breha and Bail, when his men were dying, when his brothers and sisters were fighting all across the Republic.

More than anyone, Breha understood duty. She knew its cost, her whose reign would steal years of her life, incompatible as it was with her health problems.

Still, when Obi-Wan laughed and joked, seated next to her in the sun, when a moan escaped him as he tasted a pastry, she wished she didn’t understand.

Obi-Wan liked Alderaan. He could say it was for the peaceful rest it had offered him, for the climate, for the comfortable bed and inexhaustible library. He could say it was for Bant’s smile, which he hadn’t seen since the beginning of the war, and that Alderaan had made bloom again. He could say it was the culture, the food, the palace’s garden, and while all those things were delightful, it still would be a lie.

If Obi-Wan liked Alderaan, it was first and foremost for its Queen and her Consort.

His morning meetings with Bail, his afternoons in the sun with Breha, had led to lunch the three of them, to tours in the garden when Breha had the strength and the time. As the unknown date of his departure came closer with every day, the knowledge that he would lose those moments was a pain he didn’t dare to examine. He could be emotionally blind and deaf, if Siri was to be believed, but he was still aware that the two of them didn’t treat him like the other Jedi. 

Breha was friends with Bant and Master Myr. Bail was friendly with the whole bunch, but they spend more time with Obi-Wan, hours charged with words unsaid, with casual touch sometimes lingering too long. And Obi-Wan wanted, he wanted so much. Every morning, and every evening, he reproached himself for his weakness in his meditation. One-night stands or casual liaisons were one thing, but here, he had already passed the line in the sand, and he had not even kissed them, or admitted anything, and neither had they.

One day, Bant finished his weekly exam, and instead of the usual “Not yet, you’re not ready,” said: “Move over, let me sit with you.”

Obi-Wan obeyed, abruptly on edge, and the Healer came to sit next to him on the exam table.

“You’re so serious, suddenly,” Obi-Wan said, aiming for humour and his tone falling flat. “Is it so terrible? Will I grow another arm, or something even more bizarre?”

“If someone would, it’s probably you. But no, you’re good. Better than you have been since the beginning of the war, in fact.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So, I can….I can leave.”

“Yes, you can.”

Her webbed hand found his.

“Obi…”

“Hmmm?”

“I will say that from the bottom of my heart, which adores you like the human brother I didn’t know I wanted. You are sometimes your own worst enemy.”

“Well, I prefer not to know what you would tell me if you didn’t love me,” Obi-Wan dryly remarked.

“If Master Windu hadn’t send you there, I’m not sure you would have woken up. You were burning the candle on both ends.”

“We all are.”

“But the rest of us, more or less, understand the importance of rest, of accepting comfort and support, instead of trying to take the entire world on our shoulders.”

“You’re a tad of a hypocrite, Bant. What was the last time you left your patients before the middle of the night?”

“Well, Quinlan and me…”

“ _ What _ ?”

“We didn’t know how to tell you, we feared you would find that strange.”

“Quinlan? Bant, that’s almost incest, you were raised together!”

Bant inhaled sharply.

“If it wasn’t the shock talking, I would shove you off the exam table for that,” she said, and Obi-Wan understood he had, in his stupidity, hurt her deeply with just a few words.

“But…”

“Obi, I found some happiness in darkness, and as my brother, the correct answer is congratulations.”

“…Congratulations?”

“With less of a question in the word, it would be better, but we will work on that. And now, tell me, if you leave soon this world, what could you do to find something that would make you happy? Happier. Something that you could take with you, in the night of space, something that will keep you warm.”

“Bant, Bant, I’m leaving. Soon, perhaps tomorrow.”

“Then, it’s now or never. They will never ask themselves, in their position they can’t. But you know they are only waiting for a word from you.”

She kissed his cheek.

“Perhaps it’s time you chose a little happiness for yourself.”

She left him to his thoughts.

After a moment, he took his holocomm:

“Anakin? Can you make a detour to fetch me on Alderaan?... Yes, I know you’re in route for Coruscant, but you’re the closet, it will only delay you for a day….Well, perhaps you can wait twenty hours before meeting the Chancellor again, when you haven’t seen your old Master for weeks!”

After another round of bickering with his Padawan, Obi-Wan, missing the turns in the corridors three times, slowly made his way to the palace gardens, wandering like his brain was still rebooting. Anakin would be there in less than a day, so whatever he decided, it needed to be now, when he would have preferred to have months to fret whether Bant was right or wrong. Matters of the heart were so much more complicated than battle.

He found the queen and her consort in one of their favourite places, a little hidden place under a tree, the trunk and branches creating a secret hollow under the cascading foliage. The bloom of that particular species was finished at that time of the year, and under Obi-Wan’s feet a carpeting of petals rustled, their perfume strong in the air.

Breha smiled when she saw him, and gestured in invitation. Force Healing was not a miracle, it couldn’t suddenly change her body into a totally healthy one, but even Obi-Wan could see the progress she had made, and the joy it brought her. She was glowing. He took her hand and joined them.

Then he took a careful breath and stepped into the unknown with a simple question. Searching for happiness. And the prize of his courage was the sweetness of Breha’s kiss and the strength of Bail’s arm around his waist. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, pushed to the background of his mind the countdown to Anakin’s arrival on Alderaan, and his departure. He gave himself fully to the moment. He opened his arms and bared his soul and tried his best to forget it would only be one night and gently, so gently, they pulled him against them and he found safety and closeness.

***********************************

Bail and Breha were sleeping when Obi-Wan finished dressing. Dawn was still hours away and the sparks of pleasure still lingered on his skin when he tied his belt around his waist, struggling with it like he hadn’t since he was an Initiate. He didn’t really know what he was doing. That night had been…

That night had been….

How could he go back to being so alone, when he had let them breach the walls of his entire being?

He didn’t know if he would have the strength to leave, if he woke them up for it. Bail was still curved like he had been around Obi-Wan’s smaller bulk and Breha’s hand, flat on the mattress, seemed to search for the missing body. The light of the moon exposed their almost nakedness and Obi-Wan wanted to crawl back into bed with them, and to disappear under the black, silky sheet covering their legs.

He was hesitating in the bedroom’s threshold when he heard quick steps in the hall. Someone was running into the private apartments, someone who probably wasn’t an assassin, as they didn’t try to muffle the sounds they made.

Obi-Wan turned into the bedroom and woke up his lovers. Whatever that was, he was pretty sure it was important. He could feel fate and history weighting down the Force.

“The Jedi killed the Chancellor!” The handmaiden who swooped into the rooms yelled, forgetting protocols in her turmoil and Obi-Wan could do nothing more than sit down heavily on the bed, at Bail’s feet. He put his face into his hands and grumbled:

“If this is Anakin who finally cracked, he will face so many remedial meditations. So, so, so many.”

On his shoulders, the small hand of Breha on one side, the larger hand of Bail on the other, so Obi-Wan took a careful breath and let their presence give him strength. He stood up again.

Time to face the music.

*****

Mace Windu had an eyepatch and difficulty staying upright. From the holoscreen, Obi-Wan could only see the arm of a Jedi bracing the Master of the Order to stop him from sliding down the bed. From the shape and colour of the hand, Obi-Wan though that the helper was Depa.

In the background, Master Che’s sour expression made clear she believed Mace Windu should have been sleeping, instead of taking holocalls, even calls from fellow members of the High Council.

In general, nobody in the galaxy was less impressed by the High Council than the healers in charge of keeping them alive, and they always said to anyone who was ready to listen that it was a thankless task!

It was crowded around the screen: Bail and Breha, and Obi-Wan and Bant, and the Alderaanian Prime Minister, and all the Jedi contingent still present, and a few security officers who refused to leave the Queen alone with the Jedi until more was known. It was crowded but silent. Master Che had made very clear that anybody who interrupted Master Windu with stupid questions before the end of his story would earn a place in her black book, and nobody wanted that. Not even the Prime Minister, a no nonsense woman who had never met Master Che and probably never would.

When Master Windu’s retelling of the Sith’s death was finished, there was a moment of silence. Obi-Wan had put his arm around Bant, quietly crying at the death of her former Master, poor Kit Fisto. Obi-Wan had the impression she had already known, before Mace’s report of Masters’ Fisto, Tiin and Kolar’s deaths at the hands of Palpatine, because her gills had been almost white - a sure sign of sorrow - from the moment he had found her this morning. The link between Master and Padawan was still a great mystery of the Force. Obi-Wan remembered knowing Qui-Gon would die, long before he had seen the wound, when his own fate was still unknown, fighting to the death with that thrice damned Zabrak.

“I think the Sith never intended to battle us alone,” Master Windu was saying. “I think it was a set-up. But whatever he was waiting for, or whoever, never happened.” His surviving pupil was fully dilated, the only sign he was on the good drugs, since his diction was perfect.

“He moved too many pieces,” Master Myr sagely said. “It was bound to happen. One day that one of them wouldn’t be at the place he expected, at the time he expected. It is a lesson for us all, how much we depended on his arrogance about his plans to take him down.”

“There were even more pieces than we suspected,” Master Windu continued. “Master Tholme and his team are already working with Judicials, cracking the Sith’s communications on the undeclared holocommunicators found in his apartments, and it seems he was in contact with the Separatist Council. Master Gallia has left with a team to apprehend them on the mining planet where they are hidden. It will probably take years to learn the extent of his crimes.”

The last word was a little mangled, as Mace Windu fought it against a yawn.

“Enough for today,” Master Che declared despite various protests, and Obi-Wan and the other Jedi had only time to wish a swift recovery to the Master of the Order, before the communication was shut down.

Obi-Wan was on the point of offering to accompany Bant to her rooms when all the Jedi in the room grimaced. The nova of power that was Anakin Skywalker had just arrived in orbit out of hyperspace, and his temper was a roaring tempest, so violent they could sense it from there.

“I will take care of that,” Obi-Wan announced, already anticipating accusations and a tantrum, and so much placating in his future. It really was a miracle of the Force, he decided, that Anakin hadn’t been on Coruscant during that fateful event. The young man would perhaps have done something unwise. Now that the war might stop, Anakin would have time for himself, and Obi-Wan hoped it would help.

“Take care of what?” Bail asked, surprised, but Breha was more reactive, and offered her arm to Bant, asking:

“Master Eerin, let me take you to your rooms? Or perhaps the garden? Nature is such a balm against our pains.”

“Your Majesty…”

“Breha, please.”

The other Jedi left with the Alderaan officials, already debating the best ways to participate in what would certainly be the best chance of peace, now that the Chancellor was dead and everybody would be quietly horrified to have been manipulated in such a way, horrified enough to give a real shot at negotiations, and Bail was left alone with Master Myr. He didn’t know exactly what to think about the latest events. He had opposed the Chancellor on so many laws, more and more, as Palpatine slowly accumulated more powers and encouraged more and more terrible legislation, but he never would have thought him an ancient evil with Force powers, ready to burn the galaxy down to possess it.

“I don’t know what to do right now,” Bail confessed to Master Myr.

“At this hour, I like to feed the birds in your biggest aviary,” the old Jedi said. “You have a very nice collection.”

“I was thinking more long term, but who am I to contradict the wisdom of the Jedi Order,” Bail joked, then he offered his arm. She didn’t walk very quickly and didn’t try conversation, letting Bail work on his thoughts. Soon, those thoughts were leaving surprise for irritation, as he understood better the chain of events that had put him there, on Alderaan, during the most important crisis of the last centuries of the Republic.

After a moment, he said:

“I must confess, Master Myr, when you accompanied us to Alderaan, I thought you were supposed to keep an eye on us. I was almost vexed, that Master Windu wasn’t sure of our House, but I had it backward, didn’t I? He didn’t think there would be danger, here, for the wounded Jedi, and send you to protect them. He thought the danger was on Coruscant, and he wanted you in safety, so he used me taking Obi-Wan and the other patients here as a pretext to send you too. He knew…he knew something would happen.”

She smiled sadly:

“He would have bundled up the entire Order and sent them with you, if he thought he had even a possibility to do it in secret. Since you are an allied planet, he could only send one adult Jedi in the company of our patients, and a Healer. He will feel guilty about his choice for years, the poor boy, but I am his Master, and even Jedi’s friends forget sometimes that we put more meaning in that word than other people. And what child wants his aging parent in harm’s way?”

“Was Obi-Wan really in danger?”

“Yes, he was. The numbers of attempts in his life, these last months… The Sith wanted him out of the way.”

“For what?”

“We’ll probably never know. The Dark One undoubtedly thought Obi-Wan was between him and something he wanted. Greed is the base of numerous Sith’s actions.”

She patted his arm with a cheerful smile:

“I don’t think Mace predicted Obi-Wan would take so well to Alderaan,” and Bail could have sworn he was as red as the sun at sunset.

“Master…”

“Don’t fret, my dear. After all, the time of diplomatic missions will come back for Jedi. Who knows which elected member of our Senate they will have to work with. Who knows how they will work on strengthening the Order’s bonds with our allies. Perhaps it’s time to put Jedi outposts on planets other than Coruscant, to let people remember who we are.”

Bail’s smile was quite too big for that important day, but she didn’t comment on it.

Together, they went to feed the birds.


End file.
